As Time Goes By
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: Mariah Tate never used to believe in ghosts. This was before John Winchester saved her from being strangled to death by a vengeful spirit. The two become unlikely friends and over the course of many years, Mariah and the Winchesters become like family. *A series of various one-shots featuring Wee!Chesters, Hurt!Sam and Dean, Sick!Sam and Dean, Awesome!John, and much more!*
1. First Encounters

_**Author's Note: **I'm not really sure what brought this story on . . . I've just had this rattling around in my head for a few weeks. I'll update every once in awhile as all these one-shots take place in different times. I hope you all enjoy!_

_**May 20th, 1986-Maine**  
_

I didn't used to believe in ghosts.

If someone had told me that everything that I used to be frightened of was "real", I would've accused him or her of being crazy. That's why when I had heard the rumors about the abandoned house down the lane from my clinic—rumors about a girl that had been murdered in her own bathtub—I didn't even give them a second thought. I didn't even flinch at the thought of running into the house either when I saw the woman, screaming for help, for me to save her.

Entering the house was my first mistake.

No one was there and it appeared that no one had been there for years. A fine layer of dust covered everything and I cautiously scanned the room for any signs of life.

"Hello?" I called. "Anyone here?"

_Help me._

The voice seemed to surround me and I frantically glanced from one side to another, checking to see where it had originated.

_Save me._

"Where are you?" I shouted. A flash of white caught my eyes and I spun around trying to find it. "Look, I can help you! Tell me where you are!"

_Stop me._

The woman suddenly appeared before me. Her blonde hair was drenched in water and I could see stains of what looked like blood. Her pale skin was covered with bruises and her dress was ripped towards the bottom. Her face was cruel and her eyes were dark and unfeeling. I reached out for her and my hand passed right through her. My heart began to pound furiously and my mind tried to process what occurring. Was this the woman that had died here? But that couldn't be possible, could it?

_Stop me!_

The spirit—that was the only thing I could think this woman was—threw me up against a wall and I screamed for help, for someone to come and save me from whatever it was that was attacking me. Her hand quickly flew up to my neck. As she tightened her grip, I wondered if this was how I was going to die—being strangled by a ghost.

A shot rang through the air and the spirit vanished and I fell to the floor, coughing and trying to catch my breath. The man who held the gun glanced at me before spinning around and firing another shot. He was seeped in darkness and I couldn't quite make him out.

"Damn!" He cursed as she appeared behind him and flung him the air. He crashed out through a window and I gasped as I tried to rush to my unlikely savior.

_You're not going anywhere!_

Her voice echoed in my mind and I felt myself flying once more back into the wall. Groaning, I tried to re-orient myself only to feel her hand around my neck. I thrashed around, trying to free myself but to no avail. I was going to die here it seemed.

_No!_

The spirit burst into flames before releasing me. Screaming, she seemed to vanish into thin air right before me. Catching my breath, I forced myself to sit up and move outside to check on that man. I nearly bumped into him as he rushed back into the house.

"She gone?" His voice was rough with just a hint of southern charm to it and as I looked him over, I could see that he was bleeding profusely on his left arm. Glass shards were embedded in the wound and I frowned.

"Yes," I answered and the man turned around, preparing to leave. "Wait!" He froze, but didn't face me. "You're hurt." I moved to him and I finally caught a good look at him under the streetlights. He was a man in his early 30's, dressed in a pair of dirty jeans, a flannel shirt, and a leather jacket that looked like it had seen better day. His eyes held confusion mixed with apprehension and I smiled at him to show him that I meant him no harm.

"Nothing I can't deal with." He replied gruffly, moving away once more.

"Please," I begged. "My name is Mariah Tate. I'm a doctor at the clinic in town." He regarded me with a _"So what?"_ look. "That cut needs stiches. I'd be glad to do them for you." He shifted his weight, seemingly thinking it over. I held my breath and waited to see if he would let me help him. He had saved my life, stiches were the least I could do.

"My two sons—"

"They're more than welcome," I quickly added. "I live above the clinic and I have a guest room. You can stay there for the night."

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you doing all this?" His tone indicated that he was suspicious and I sighed softly.

"You saved my life from a ghost and you're asking me why I'm trying to help you?" I challenged. "Please, at least let me stich you up." He sighed and then nodded his head slowly before walking away into the dark once more. I quickly rushed back to the clinic, eager to help the man that had saved my life.

Because, without him, I would've been killed that night.

No doubt about it.

* * *

He arrived no more than 15 minutes later with two boys trailing after him, a three year old and a seven year old. The three year old looked like he was about to pass out where he was from sheer exhaustion and the older boy was eyeing me warily. I grinned, trying to reassure him that I wasn't the enemy, but his gaze didn't soften.

"Dean," The man began with an authoritative tone and the eldest immediately looked away from me and met his father's gaze. "You go upstairs with Sammy and get to bed." Dean nodded and led his brother up the stairs.

"They're adorable." I cooed without even noticing I had said it out loud—only the slight smirk on the man's face told me what I had remarked. The man sat down on the table and I quickly pulled out my tools. He removed his jacket sluggishly and I winced just seeing all the glass that was in the wound. I offered him a few pain pills, but the man pushed them away. "You never did tell me your name." I began to pull the glass shards out, one-by-one into a shallow metal dish I had grabbed. He was calm and barely even flinched each time I touched the wound.

"John." Straightforward and gruff—those were the two qualities that John was the epitome of.

"Thank you for saving me then, John." That comment seemingly disarmed him a little as his shoulders sunk and his posture relaxed a bit. I wanted to ask him more—about what he was doing chasing ghosts, how he even knew how to get rid of them, why his sons were with him, where was his wife because I could see his wedding band—but I held my tongue because I knew that John was something akin to a stray cat. Get too close, too fast and the cat will run away, just like I knew John would. Removing the last of the glass, I quickly cleaned the wound and then stitched it up.

"Done?" He asked and I nodded. He rose from the table and I wondered if he was going to take his sons and leave. He paused and I wondered if he was weighing his options. I held my breath as he walked up the stairs. When he was out of sight, I grinned and began to clean up.

"Juice?" Sam had seemingly come out of nowhere and he startled me. He was an adorable toddler with eyes that I knew one day would make all the girls swoon.

"Hi there," I greeted as I quickly finished cleaning up and then bent down to be at his eye-level. "What are you doing up?"

"Juice." Sam repeated and it soon became clear that he wasn't asking for it anymore—he was demanding. I chuckled dryly and headed over to the mini-fridge that I kept downstairs. Opening it, I pulled out the one of the juice boxes that the clinic kept when young children came in. Sam smiled hugely and took the juice box from me and tried to get up in the chair. He was too short though and I smiled as I helped him up.

"Juice!" Sam exclaimed, happily drinking and I smiled.

"You like juice?" Sam nodded his head, suddenly energetic and I chuckled.

"Sammy?" Dean quickly bounded down the stairs, frantically glancing around the room for his brother.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. "Juice!" Dean eyed me and gave me an almost _I-still-don't-trust-you _look and then quickly walked over to Sam.

"It's bedtime, Sammy." Dean told him and grabbed his hand and took the juice box away.

"No, Dean!" Sammy cried, tears starting to fill his eyes. "Juice!"

"C'mon, Sammy—" Dean tried once more, picking up his brother into his arms.

"No!" Sam sobbed, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Juice!"

"Sammy, please—" Dean pleaded, but Sam wouldn't stop crying. I was about to open my mouth when John appeared on the top of the stairs.

"Dean?" John mumbled, his voice tinged with sleep. Seeing Sam so upset, he quickly made his way down the stairs and pulled his youngest into his arms. "Easy there, Sammy. Calm down. Shhh." Sam seemed to calm at his father's touch and quickly quieted down. Sam shut his eyes and was soon asleep in his father's arms.

"He's asleep." Dean whispered and John smiled, a rare sight judging by Dean's reaction.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "He asked for some juice and I didn't think—"

"Sam does love his juice," John muttered. "But, it's okay. We just all need to get some sleep." With that, John headed upstairs, but Dean froze, meeting my gaze.

"Yes, Dean?" I asked.

"Could I . . .?" Dean's voice trailed off into indecision and I grinned. I handed him a juice box and Dean happily drank it before he too headed off to bed.

The next morning, John and his sons were gone—the beds made and only a little card resting on the pillow of one.

_If you ever need help—John Winchester_. His phone number was scrawled on the side. I grinned a bit and placed the card on my dresser.

This was my first encounter of many with the Winchesters.

_**Author's Note: **I really enjoy the cute Sam in this chapter! I've wanted to do toddler Sam and young Dean for a long time. Mariah is in her late 20's, by the way. Anyways, next chapter, John and the boys are sick with the flu. Can Mariah help them? Please review! _


	2. Because

_**Author's Note: **Hello! I hope you're all doing well. Please enjoy this chapter!  
_

_**July 2**__**nd**__**, 1986**_

"Dr. Tate!" Nancy, one of the nurses, exclaimed rushing into my little personal office. I glanced up from my work—it was amazing the sheer amount of paperwork a little clinic like mine went through—to see Nancy out of breath frantically motioning to the door.

"Nancy?" I asked cautiously, wondering what had startled my head nurse. "Is everything alright?"

"Dr. Tate, please come quick!" Nancy shouted. "There's a man here with two little boys and I don't know—" Quickly and calmly, I rose from my desk and placed my stethoscope around my neck. I followed Nancy out of my office and into the main lobby of the clinic, unsure of what to expect. Nancy wasn't a nurse that got scared easily—she had been here longer than me and she had seen so much more than I had in 20 years of nursing. Her anxiety unnerved me and I forced myself to take a clam breath. Then, I turned the corner and almost gasped in surprise.

There was John Winchester, bloodied and bruised with Sam and Dean in his arms. I could see how Nancy had gotten so alarmed—both Sam and Dean appeared to be running fevers and Dean himself had a few cuts and bruises on his arms. And John . . . well, John looked like he had been through Hell and then got run over by a car.

"Dr. Tate?" Nancy questioned, hovering beside me. I knelt beside John and put my gloves on. Sam opened his eyes—fever glazed, I confirmed with a frown—and I shot him a small smile so as to keep him calm. Sam rewarded me with a grin of his own.

"Get the thermometer, two wash cloths, and two basins with some ice water in them." I ordered and Nancy nodded her head before vanishing into the other room.

"Mariah?" John mumbled, his voice weak from what I assumed was blood loss.

"We gotta stop meeting like this, John," I joked and was rewarded with a small smirk on the man's face. "What happened?"

"Long story." John wheezed. "The boys?"

"Sam's got a fever," I replied as I stole a glance at Dean, whose eyes were on Sam. "Dean does too, as well as a few cuts. And you," I was still cataloging and determining how to fix all John's injuries. "Look like you went a few rounds with a semi-truck."

"Dr. Tate, I've got the stuff." I nodded and picked Sam up in my arms. The toddler clung on instantly and I rocked him back and forth a bit.

"I've got you, Sam," I whispered to him and Sam eased up on the death grip. I passed him off to Nancy. "Check his temperature." Nancy nodded and smiled brightly at Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned, forcing himself to check on his brother.

"He's okay," John soothed and Dean relaxed a bit. "Dr. Tate has him." Dean met my gaze and for once, I saw the seven year old actually relax a bit. Maybe he didn't trust me fully, but it seemed to me that whatever John deemed was okay would get Dean's approval too.

"Dean, can I let Nurse Nancy check you?" I inquired. "I really need to look over your Dad." Dean nodded and Dean shakily walked over to where Nancy was currently patting Sam's forehead with the cloth.

"Dr. Tate, Sam's fever is lowering."

"Good," I answered. "I want him to take some ibuprofen. Is he hurt anywhere?"

"No, Dr. Tate." Nancy replied.

"Good," I said with a relieved sigh. "How's Dean?" I craned my head around and watched Nancy's trained eye scan over the older brother.

"Fever as well," Nancy said. "Shallow cuts, minor bruising, but nothing major. Ibuprofen as well?" I shook my head and Nancy immediately got back to work.

"And Nancy?" Nancy met my gaze. "Take them upstairs to the guest bedroom. They probably are exhausted."

"Yes, Dr. Tate." With that, I let Nancy get back to work and focused all my attention on John. I identified the source of the bleeding as what appeared to be a stab wound in his chest area. Grimacing, I changed my gloves and reached for my suturing bag and tried to determine whether I could handle this myself or whether John needed to get down to the County General hospital.

"You got stabbed?" I inquired, trying to keep the worry out of my tone.

"In a manner of speaking," John replied cryptically. "The boys?" I had to admire his dedication to his sons. Here he was, bleeding out and yet, all he could think about were his two sons.

"Nancy's got them," I assured him. "She'll take good care of them. You need to focus on yourself." John shifted himself in his chair and groaned. I frowned as I quickly formed a game plan. "Can you walk over to the examination table?" John stood up and swayed slightly. I braced him and guided him over to the table. "Lie down." He did so and I quickly dashed around the room, looking for where I had kept the IV. Finding it, I rolled it out and over to the table. I was equipped to do with dehydration and intravenous medicines, but not blood transfusions. If I didn't get the blood stopped immediately, a trip down to the hospital would be unavoidable.

"Bad?" John slurred, his voice thick with exhaustion and I simply chose to give him a rueful smile.

"You might need to go to the hospital."

That struck a cord.

Immediately, John tried to sit himself up and in a panic, I pushed him back down.

"Stop!" I exclaimed. "You'll lose more blood!"

"No hospital." John ground out with such fierce intensity that I almost forgot that he was bleeding out in front of me. I couldn't guarantee that I could avoid the hospital, but for his own safety, I'd have to lie to him.

"Okay, no hospital," I assured him. "Just relax." He chuckled dryly.

"Bad liar," John mumbled, fading into exhaustion. "Gotta learn how to lie better, Mariah."

With that, he fell unconscious.

* * *

Three hours later, John Winchester was sleeping peacefully in a bed that an old hospital had donated to me. Beside him, two ancient, yet reliable monitors beeped reassuringly and an IV stood guard, administering medicine to my unlikely savior. It had been close there for a bit—I almost took him to the hospital—but after some massive stiches and bandages on all his other cuts, John seemed to be out of the danger zone.

"Dr. Tate?"

"How are the boys?" I asked, keeping my eyes focused on the monitor, waiting to see the reassuring line move up and down once more.

"Both asleep," Nancy answered, coming to my side. "What do you think happened?"

"Car accident." I lied quickly.

"Yeah," Nancy replied. "That makes sense." In actuality, I knew that John hadn't been in a car accident, but what could I say to Nancy? No, sorry, he was out hunting ghosts? That would go over well. Nancy sighed softly and then made her way to the door.

"Oh, Nancy, you ran over your shift!" I exclaimed, guilt surging through me.

"It's alright," Nancy said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Tom won't mind. It was an emergency after all."

"Well, go on home." I ordered softly.

"You'll be alright with all three of them?" I shot her a grateful smile.

"I can handle them." With a small bob of her head, Nancy headed out the door. I checked John's IV and wished that he would wake up. I had so many questions to ask him—why did he come here, what had happened—but I knew that was selfish of me. Whatever happened was none of my business.

Even if it was killing me that I didn't know.

"Daddy?" I spun around to see Dean standing at the top of the stairs. I was relieved to see his eyes no longer had that odd glaze in them and that he was looking considerably perkier and more awake than he had before.

"He's asleep." I told the young boy. Dean scanned his father with an unusually critical eye before making his way towards the bed. Dean held his father's hand within his own and then nodded his head, like he had proven to himself that John was okay.

"He'll be okay?"

"Yeah," I assured him with a small smile. "How are you feeling?" Dean shrugged dismissively and tentatively placed his hand over his father's. John stirred and Dean eyes filled with panic as he turned to me. The monitors beeped more loudly but as I checked them, I could see that they were just informing me that John was returning back to the land of the conscious.

"Dean?" John whispered and the panic in Dean's eyes faded slightly.

"I'm here." Dean told him. John forced his eyes opened and a small grin filled his face. Dean beamed and immediately ran upstairs calling for Sam. I chuckled softly—John meant the world to those two boys.

"Mariah." John greeted and I glanced at the monitors, checking his vitals once more.

"You gave all of us quite the scare, John." I confessed.

"Sorry." John sheepishly apologized.

"What happened?" I asked. "You looked like you had in been in a crazy fight and both of the boys had fevers—"

"They're alright?" John questioned, urgency coloring his tone as he forced himself to sit up. He winced and I sighed as I quickly eased him up.

"Fine." I replied.

"Good." John mumbled, a seemingly invisible burden lifting off his shoulders.

"So . . .?" I began. John shot me a puzzled look.

"So?"

"What happened? Why were you injured so badly?" I asked. John shifted uncomfortably in the bed and refused to meet my gaze. "Was it . . . a ghost?" It was hard for me to talk about ghosts like they were real because a part of me had wanted to forget that night John had saved me—had wanted to pretend like ghosts were nothing but fodder for cheesy horror movies.

"No," John answered, meeting my gaze for the first time. "Werewolf."

I blinked.

"Werewolf?" I echoed.

"Yeah," John replied. "I left the boys for a few hours to go hunt it down—I didn't know they were sick—and needless to say, the thing fought hard." I nodded, trying to process the whole part about werewolves being real. "By the time, I got back to the room, Dean and Sam were both sick and Dean had managed to hurt himself trying to help Sam." He sighed and I wondered if Dean hurting himself for Sam was a regular occurrence.

"And then?" I prompted.

"Drove over the state line and came straight here."

"You drove all the way here from another state?" I exclaimed. No wonder John had been on his last legs when he had gotten here—the blood loss alone had to have been bad. "Why?"

"Because." John answered.

"Because?"

"Because." John's voice was firm and I knew that he had decided that he had said enough and I sighed. Dean and Sam bounded down the stairs and Sam immediately crawled onto the bed and nestled himself on his father's side. Dean grinned and began telling his father a story that didn't make any sense to anyone other than Sam.

A few hours later, I found them all asleep together. Grabbing a blanket, I covered the three of them up.

* * *

The next morning, John piled the boys up in a black Impala and stood in the doorway of my clinic once more.

"Thank you, Mariah." I smiled.

"Try to keep yourself out of trouble." I said with a hint of concern in my voice. John smirked.

"See you around."

With that, he and the boys drove away once more.

_**Author's Note: **Next chapter, Mariah has to baby-sit the boys! Please review!_


	3. Thanksgiving

_**Author's Note: **__I really loved writing this chapter! Getting a glimpse into Mariah's past was fun to write, but also, young Sam and Dean are so cute! Anyways, please enjoy this really long chapter!_

* * *

_**November 27**__**th**__**, 1986—Thanksgiving**_

It's funny how family will just drop in unexpectedly. The whole week leading up to Thanksgiving, my family had been appearing in droves. First, my meddlesome mother showed up with my father in tow and demanded that I come home to New Hampshire for Thanksgiving.

"Mariah, dear," She had begun, voice dripping with false charm. "This town will live if you close this clinic for one day." She shot me a small grin and my father muttered something about "damn women" as he took another swig of the beer I had managed to scrounge up for him to drink.

"Mom," I started, trying not to let her drive me insane. "You know how busy I get—"

"Mariah," Her voice was sharp now and her green eyes had hardened. "You will come home for Thanksgiving or I will make it my personal mission to get this clinic shut down."

And suddenly, I felt like I was 16 years old again, telling my mother that I had no intentions of marrying Thomas Akin and becoming a rich housewife when I was older. She had threatened to disown me then, but I had managed to come through the other side somehow.

"You can't do that," I hissed. "This clinic—"

"Has ruined your life!" Mom completed, dramatically throwing her hands in the air. "Look at you! You're almost 30, living in squalor—"

"Squalor?" I echoed, unsure whether to laugh at how ignorant my mother truly was.

"With no hopes of marrying a decent man and having children!"

"Mom, I have a great job that I love—!"

"You come home for Thanksgiving," Mother told me, rising from the table and dragging my father up with me. "Or I will make your life miserable, Mariah!"

And with that, she left the clinic in a huff.

* * *

My brother's wife was the next to show up, almost two days after my mother's meltdown. While Rich and I didn't get along—he had been a horribly cruel older brother to me—I adored his wife, Suzanne. She was kind and also was beautiful. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back and she was always impeccably dressed. What made us get along; however, was the fact that she supported me. She had stood up to my mother on my behalf and had helped me out during the year that I had been disowned after deciding to go to medical school.

"Suzanne, what a surprise!"

"Mariah, you look wonderful!" She embraced me and I invited her inside. Together, we sat down at the small table that I had put in the kitchen area upstairs.

"So, what brings you here?"

"I wanted to ask a huge favor," She anxiously tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and I held my breath, knowing what she was going to say. "Come home for Thanksgiving!"

"I—" Suzanne didn't give me a chance to finish my sentence for she grasped my hand within her own and her eyes welled up in tears.

"Please, don't leave me alone with all of them!" I sighed and tried to untangle myself from her grasp. "Mariah, I need you to help me get through this. Please, I'm begging you! I can't go through one more year of that madness—"

"Fine." I sighed, resigning myself to a Thanksgiving full of misery and horror.

"Oh, really?" She perked up instantly and I found myself once more in her embrace. "Thank you! I owe you one!"

"Yes, you do."

"I'll make it up to you, I swear!" A clock chimed and she jumped up. "Oh, crap, I've gotta go. I'll see you soon though!"

As she sprinted out the door, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

* * *

The night before Thanksgiving, I tried to prepare myself mentally for all of the backhanded compliments that my mother would dish out and the ways that my brother would tease me, while the rest of my extended family bickered over some new summer home. My family was incredibly self-centered and was "old-money" as my mother had fondly told me everyday growing up. As the self-professed "black sheep" of the family, I dreaded having to go back to them. They were so negative and I had finally gotten out! I had managed to defy everyone's expectations and make something of myself and yet, the holidays forced me to relieve my awful childhood and past.

A pounding at the door cut off all of the flashbacks swirling in my brain. Glancing at the clock, I could see that it was already 10:00pm and I cautiously peeked out the widow before opening the door.

"John?"

"Evening, Mariah." He greeted with a small smile on his lips. He held Sam in his arms and the toddler was asleep. Dean was by his side, looking like he might pass out on the spot. Ushering them in, I put on a pot of coffee while John put the boys to bed. By the time John returned, I had two cups out and I was already sitting.

"Are you guys okay?" I questioned cautiously, because the last time I had seen them, all three of them had been in bad shape.

"We're fine." John assured me, the smile still in place.

"I'm glad to hear that."

A pause passed as John took a few sips of his coffee and I tried to figure out why he was here. He wasn't hurt so he didn't need a doctor. The boys, aside from being tired, also seemed perfectly healthy.

"Listen, I was wondering if you could do a favor."

"Yes?" I prompted and John ran a hand through his hair, almost as if he was nervous.

"There's a hunt nearby," He started, meeting my gaze. "And it's going to take me a few days to sort out. I can't take the boys—"

"You want me to baby-sit?" I surmised and he nodded.

"I know, this is so sudden, but this might be my only chance to kill this thing." I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to think. How would my family re-act if I suddenly brought to kids to our notoriously not kid-friendly thanksgiving dinner? Would Sam and Dean even remotely enjoy themselves? "Please, Mariah." There was something so gentle in his tone that caused me to cave.

"Okay," I told him, a small grin on my lips. "I'll take them to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow."

"Thank you," John said sincerely. "I owe you one."

I just smiled.

* * *

He left as soon as he had awoken Dean and explained what was going on. Then, with a respectful bob of his head, he walked out and got into the familiar black Impala. I went to bed soon after that and I awoke early, determined to make today a good day. Thanksgiving or not, I wasn't going to let dinner with my family ruin all of this.

"Mariah!" Sam exclaimed happily as he sat on the floor. He woken up before Dean surprisingly—his older brother must've been exhausted—and had energetically explored nearly every crevice of the kitchen before plopping himself by my side. I was surprised that he was able to say my name after only seeing me twice before, but I could see that Sam was a bright kid, extraordinarily gifted for his age.

"That's me," I cooed, fawning over how adorable he was. "You like pancakes, Sammy?"

"Dean loves them!" He chirped and I chuckled as I flipped over a chocolate chip pancake. "He lets me have his sometimes."

"He does?" I asked, surprised by just how giving Dean was with his brother.

"Yeah!"

"Sammy," Dean called as he emerged from the spare room. He regarded me kindly and I smiled. It would seem that saving his father's life had finally caused Dean to trust me. "You shouldn't be so loud. It's early."

"I'm not loud, Dean!" Sam shouted and Dean scooped him up and placed him on his lap as he sat down at the table.

"Sure, you're not." Dean muttered. I chuckled as I kept my eyes on the pancake cooking on the stove.

"Pancake, Dean?" The older Winchester brother nodded eagerly and I took his plate and filled it with a stack of piping hot pancakes. I wasn't sure how much young boys ate, but it was better to overcook than undercook right? Dean; however, slid one of the pancakes off his stack and placed it on another plate where he cut it up into very small pieces. He waited until Sam started eating before he finally cut into his own pancakes and I couldn't help but be touched by the small display of affection that had just taken place before me. I had been fully prepared to do that for Sam, but Dean had beaten me to it.

"Dean." Sam began, pancake showing in his open mouth.

"Chew with your mouth closed, Sam." Dean admonished, as he took a bite of his own pancake.

"Mariah says we get to go to Thanksgiving!" Dean's head perked up as he met my gaze.

"Call her Dr. Tate—"

"No, Mariah is fine." I insisted. Dean smiled cautiously at me and then paused before continuing.

"Is that true?" Dean finished. "Are we going to do Thanksgiving?"

"You don't do it with your dad?" I questioned and Dean shook his head. His eyes flashed with sadness and I made a note to ask John about this once he returned. Could this have something to do with their mother? What had exactly happened to her? "Well, yeah, I was hoping if you two were okay with it, that we could go to my Thanksgiving dinner."

"With your family?" Dean's tone was a mix of fear and worry and I chuckled dryly. I shared the sentiment.

"Yeah, if that's okay with you two," I continued. "My family is well . . ." I paused trying to think of a child-approved word to describe them. "Well, they're a bit overbearing, but Thanksgiving is about spending time with family, right?"

"We're not your family." Dean mumbled, the sadness once again appearing in his eyes and I sighed softly. Reaching out across the table, I held his small hand within my own.

"Not by blood maybe," I conceded. "But you two boys and your daddy, you're always welcome here. That's what a family is, Dean. People that will always take you in, no matter what." He seemed to let that sink in before nodding slowly. Rising from the table, I resolved that everything would work out.

* * *

"Tell me those children aren't yours."

Those were the first words out of my mother's mouth after Sam, Dean, and I had entered the dining room. I had called Suzanne and she had lent Sam and Dean some of her son's clothes from when he was their ages. My nephew though had been excused from attending since Suzanne had conveniently enrolled him in summer camp. Lucky duck . . .

"Nice to see you too, Mother." She took a sip of her wine and then rose from her place at the head of the dining room.

"Mariah, I'm not playing around—" Her tone held a hidden warning in it and I forced myself to bite my tongue. I was trying to survive and fighting wouldn't help anyone.

"I'm looking after them," I explained. "Their father is a good friend of mine." Sam clutched my hand tightly as my mother eyed him and his brother with a disapproving glance.

"Mariah, honestly," She sighed as she rolled her eyes. "Work is all you do!"

"I think it's nice." Suzanne interjected, winking at me.

"Oh, shut up." Mother mumbled under her breath as she took another sip of her wine.

"This is Sam," I gestured with the hand that Sam wasn't currently squeezing to death. "And his brother, Dean."

"I didn't make places for them."

"You can add some, Mom," I informed her. "You have plenty more and you know it."

"Don't take that tone with me!" Mother snapped.

"Mom—" Rich started, but a harsh look from Mom cut him off.

"I am just asking you to add two more plates." I calmly told her.

"I will not!" She shouted and Sam stiffened. "They aren't even family! They're strangers!"

"Linda," My father said quietly. "Just do it." She slammed her wine glass down on the table.

"I most certainly will not!" She screeched. "I have standards and these standards must be upheld—" Sam shook beside me and my mind became made up. I knelt down to Sam and patted his head as I smiled at him.

"You two wait for me outside, okay?" Sam nodded and Dean took his hand and they headed out the front door.

"Well, that's better." Mother approved.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye." I told her, not regretting this decision. I turned around and headed towards the door with my mom screaming my name all the way.

"Mariah, you walk out that door, you will be dead to us!"

I walked out the door without a second thought.

"Come on," I said to the boys. "Let's go home."

* * *

It was later that night after our version of an impromptu Thanksgiving—Thank God for Chinese take-out—and after I had tucked the boys into bed that the effects of what I had really done sunk in. This hadn't been the first time that I had been disowned, but this time I knew it was final. There would never be any reconciliation between my mother and I. Who knew whether I'd even see them again? Still, as much I knew that I had made the right decision, it still hurt. I had no family. I was now an orphan, floundering in the dark world by myself.

"Mariah?" I hadn't even noticed I had been crying until Dean had handed me a tissue. "You hurt?"

"No," I sobbed, furiously trying to wipe away tears. "Go back to bed, Dean." He didn't move and simply sat beside me.

"She's stupid." Dean suddenly spoke up and I regarded him curiously.

"What?"

"For being mean to you like that," Dean explained, somewhat embarrassed. "Sammy and me, we heard her shouting at you. She'll be sorry." He hesitated for a second and then mind seemingly made up, he hugged me quickly. Stunned, it took me a few seconds to register what was going on and by then, Dean had let go of me. He was blushing, clearly embarrassed by his actions.

"Dean," He met my eyes and I sincerely grinned. "Thank you." He scrambled to his feet and I suppressed a laugh at how cute he was.

"Good night." With that, he ran upstairs.

I followed him shortly after, feeling much better.

* * *

The next morning, John had returned and I felt a small pang of sadness that the boys were leaving. Sam embraced me and made me promise to make him more pancakes the next time they came. Dean allowed me to hug him quickly before he got embarrassed again.

"They give you any trouble?" John inquired after the boys had gotten into the car.

"No, none at all." I reported with a wistful grin.

"How was Thanksgiving dinner?" John questioned and I grimaced.

"They got me through it," I admitted. "You're lucky to have them, John."

"Don't I know it." John mumbled. A pause passed.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"Feel free to visit whenever," I told him sincerely. "The door is always open—injured or not."

"And if you ever need anything . . ." His voice trailed off and I nodded.

"I'll call." I promised.

With that, the Winchesters drove out of my life once more.

* * *

_** Author's Note: **__My favorite part of this chapter was Dean comforting Mariah. I loved writing that. Anyways, next chapter, something supernatural is happening in Mariah's clinic! Can John and the boys help? If you have a second, I'd love to hear what you thought!_


	4. Ghost

_**Author's Note: **__Wow, time flies! I meant to update this story weeks ago, but real life got hectic . . . anyways, here's the latest chapter! Please enjoy!_

* * *

_**May 15**__**th**__**, 1987**_

It had started with simple things—a misplaced book, saline being placed down and then repapering somewhere else, the lights occasionally flickering. I hadn't worried at the time and had chalked up all the randomness to my lousy memory and the clinic's bad electrical wiring. After all, it was an old building and while that it had made it easy to purchase, it sure gave me a lot of headaches. Still, I had ignored the weird uneasiness in my gut and pushed back the doubt.

"No, Nancy," Isobel whispered, voice tight with worry. I froze on the stairs and watched as one of the newest nurses on staff poured out her story to my Head Nurse. "I saw something last night. It was like a woman, but she was covered in blood—"

"Oh, come on," Nancy chided gently. "You've been watching too many horror movies before bed, haven't you?"

"Well—" Isobel began sheepishly.

"See?" My head nurse replied. "Probably was all in your head."

I nodded my head in agreement, yet the bad feeling in my gut wouldn't go away.

* * *

It was a week after the "incidents" began that I saw her.

She stood in the middle of the clinic, blonde hair stained crimson as blood dripped off of her pale hands and splattered onto the floor. She stared up at me with icy blue eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

And then, she was gone.

After I had regained my senses, I rushed back upstairs and pulled out the little card that John had given me, a year ago. Pounding the numbers into my phone, I prayed for him to answer.

_"Hello?" _He sounded absolutely exhausted and I bit back the apology on my tongue. There was a ghost in my clinic and John was the only one that could help me.

"John? It's Mariah." I told him, my voice shaking.

_"Mariah?"_ He sounded more alert now and I could hear him rising up from a bed. There was the sound of a door opening and then closing behind him. _"You okay?"_

"I think a ghost is in my clinic." There was a pause as he absorbed this information and I waited with baited breath.

_"Are you okay? Did it hurt you?" _He asked urgently and I smiled softly. I had never heard him so concerned before. It was nice to have someone care about me, for a change. Still . . . John and I were just friends. That was all we would ever be and besides, it's not like I wanted to be involved with him anyways.

No.

No, I was not having this conversation with myself now! God, I was acting like a middle school girl who had been told that the popular boy had a crush on her. There were important matters to focus on now—the ghost in my clinic for one thing.

"I'm fine," I assured him. "I just saw her tonight. John, I need your help."

"_I'll be there in the morning, okay? Is there somewhere you can go for the night? I'd feel better if I knew you were someplace safe." _No, those weren't butterflies flying around in my stomach because John was just concerned for his friend. Besides, he was married for God's sake! He still wore his ring—

"_Mariah?" _He prompted.

"I'll figure something out." I assured him. "See you in the morning."

"_Stay safe." _He ordered gruffly before hanging up.

* * *

Nancy never asked why I had suddenly shown up on her doorstep and let me in without a comment. She made me a nice makeshift bed on the couch and with a grateful smile, I feel asleep.

_The ghost stared at me, eyes sucking me in. I was drowning, my lungs were burning and God, I was going to die—!_

I sucked in a shuddering breath as I sat up, wiping away beads of sweat on my forehead. I had only been asleep for a couple of hours, but the sun was beginning to rise and after leaving a quick thank you note for Nancy, I slipped out the front door and headed to the clinic.

My town is small—not too small though, but small enough so that you got the sense of whom everyone was and you ran into neighbors at least once a week. Being the resident doctor, I had shared my life with many of these people and I wondered if the ghost in my clinic had been someone that I had known. She hadn't appeared familiar to me, but then again, she was memorable somehow.

Entering the clinic, I put on a pot of coffee and waited a few minutes before I saw the Impala come rumbling onto the street, an unfamiliar pick-up behind it. Pouring myself a quick cup, I headed outside. John stepped out of the car, saying something to Dean and Sam, both of whom were almost asleep in the backseat. I chuckled softly at them—they were so cute!—and then let my focus return to John.

"Hey." I greeted.

"Morning," He said, a tired grin on his lips. "You okay?"

"Fine," I reported. "Coffee?" I extended the hand with the mug and he gratefully accepted it. An older man stood behind him in a baseball cap, jeans and a flannel shirt.

"This is Bobby Singer," John informed me and the older man held out his hand and I shook it. "He's another hunter."

"Mariah Tate," I told him cordially. "Thank you for coming out so quickly."

"John's told me he owes you a few favors," Bobby told me with a dry chuckle and I nodded. "Sides, until we know what we're dealing with, it's best to have an extra set of eyes."

"What did you see?" John questioned.

"A woman with blonde hair, blue eyes and blood dripping to the floor. She looked at me for a few seconds and then she was gone," I reported. "One of my nurses, Isobel, saw her too. Maybe you could ask her—?"

"Ask me what?" And speak of the devil, Isobel had suddenly arrived.

And before I could even open my mouth to offer an excuse, both John and Bobby pulled out badges.

"Special Agents Monroe and Wilson," Bobby stated calmly, like he had done this routine for many years—maybe he had—and I bit my lower lip to prevent myself from gaping at the blatant lie. "FBI. We're looking into an old case. We were wondering if you could spare a moment to talk to us?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Isobel replied quickly and Bobby led her a little ways away from the cars.

"Wow," I mumbled. "You guys always carry around badges like that?" John nodded. "So, what now?"

"We dig," John reported quietly. "Figure out who the spirit is and then deal with it."

"Okay," I replied. "What do I do?"

"Stay out of the clinic." He ordered.

"But John—!" I was the only doctor in town and the local hospital was a good 20 minutes away. People depended on me daily. I couldn't just stop doing my job!

"Mariah," He hissed, gripping my arm tightly to prevent me from moving anywhere. "That thing in your clinic is dangerous and you going in there is just going to give it an open invitation to start taking people out."

"I can't just stop doing my job—"

"I'm not asking you too," He said with a sigh. "Just make house calls for today, okay?"

"Okay," I relented. "And what are you going to do with the boys?"

"Probably check them into a motel—"

"Let me take them with me," I interjected. "I could use the company."

"Fine."

"Good." I smirked and then headed over the Impala. Opening the door, I grinned as two pairs of sleepy eyes met mine.

"Mariah?" Dean mumbled, drowsiness still evident in his tone.

"Hi there," I greeted. "Want some breakfast?"

* * *

Turns out that both of the boys loved pancakes.

The local diner was famous for them and after saving one of the chefs from choking to death, I got free meals there now. Melody, the matronly waitress who also co-owned the diner with her husband fawned over the boys.

"Oh, Mariah, they are adorable!" She cooed. "Whose are they?"

"I'm just babysitting them for a friend in town while he deals with some business." I replied politely.

"Oh, a 'special' friend?" She drawled as her eyebrows wagged and I nearly choked on my coffee.

"No, no!" I retorted. "He's just a friend."

"Sugar, with the way that you're blushing right now, I doubt that." And with one more glance at me, she sashayed away. Dean eyed me oddly and I avoided his gaze, too embarrassed too speak.

"Mariah?" Sam asked, his tone clearly implying that he was concerned by my sudden silence. Smiling brightly, I faced him and took a bite of my own pancake. That seemed to assure him.

Breakfast went on.

* * *

After an interesting day—treating a few colds, bandaging up a few cuts—I was relieved to head back to the clinic. The boys were certainly getting attention from everyone in the town and if I heard one more question asking if they were mine, I was going to scream. I mean, yes, I viewed Sam and Dean as family—their dad had saved my life after all—but having it acknowledged in town wasn't helping with my growing feelings for John. There had to be a reason he was wearing his wedding ring, right? Still, it wasn't my place to pry, despite how much I wanted to.

"Well?" I asked as we approached the clinic later that night. John appeared grim and Bobby was shaking his head as he stared at the building. "What?"

"You're not going to like this." He stated.

"What?" I repeated, needing to know the news.

"We couldn't find a damn thing on the girl," Bobby told her as he stepped away from the clinic. "There's been no violent deaths in this town, nothing strange or unusual going on—"

"But I saw her!" I protested. "So, did Isobel."

"That won't help us figure out who she is," Bobby retorted. "There are plenty of blonde, blue-eyed girls everywhere. Tracking down our girl without any leads will take weeks, even if we're lucky."

"So, what? We just let her—" And there, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her through the window. Abandoning my sentence, I rushed inside, only for the door to lock behind me.

"Mariah!" John bellowed. Summoning my courage, I moved to the center of the freezing room.

"Who are you?" I called into the darkness. "Show yourself!"

_Doctor . . . can you help me? _

There she was, blue eyes full of tears, blood coating her face and hair as it spilled onto the wooden floor.

"Yes," I told her automatically. I could hear voices shouting outside and I knew that I had to keep this spirit calm. Getting her riled up could get me killed. "What's your name?"

_Anna._

"I'm Dr. Tate." I told her.

_Dr. Tate, please help me._

"I will," I assured her. "You just need to tell me what happened." Anna's face twisted up with pain.

_Thomas hit me. It hurts, Dr. Tate._

"I know," I murmured, glancing at the door, which was being hit at with something outside. "Listen, my friends outside can help you better than I can. Could you let them in?"

_No._

The temperature in the room dipped and I shivered involuntarily. I could hear electricity buzzing in the air and I glanced around the room. My equipment began to shift around and I held my hands up in a gesture of placating.

"Calm down," I ordered her. "Just relax."

_I'm lonely, Dr. Tate. Will you join me? We could be friends._

"No." I told her definitely.

And that's when she started throwing stuff at me. Dodging, I ran about the room, avoiding IV poles and needles. It was right as the door burst open that I felt something sharp hit my head. I fell to the floor and the last thing I remembered before I fell into the dark was seeing John call my name.

* * *

When I came to, Sam was snuggled up onto my left side, asleep and Dean was passed out on his father's lap. John sat in a worn down chair and Bobby stood against the wall, observing me.

"Hey," I greeted. "You get it?"

"You mean after you gave me a fucking heart attack?" He whispered, voice deadly. I winched slightly and then placed my hand to the huge bump that I had sustained curtsey of Anna. Other than that, I couldn't see any more injuries. I glanced around and saw that I was in what looked like to be a motel room. The clinic must've been a mess after what Anna had done to it.

"Sorry about that." I mumbled.

"We got it," Bobby assured me, minor amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Banishment spell. She won't be able to get into your clinic again."

"I'm glad." I told him with a small smile on my lips.

"You know running into that was the stupidest thing you could've done, right?" John informed me and I smirked.

"It worked, didn't it?" He chuckled and Sam shifted slightly. I grinned down at him and then at Dean. Both boys were absolute angels when they slept and they looked so cute too. "How's the clinic?"

"A bit worse for wear," Bobby admitted. "But nothing a good cleaning won't fix."

"Thanks again for all your help." I told them sincerely.

"No problem." John answered and then feeling absolutely drained from my experience, I let my eyes shut.

* * *

"I'll see you two boys soon." I told Sam and Dean as they sat in the back of the Impala. "And next time you come, we'll go get more pancakes."

"Really?" The two boys exclaimed in unison.

"Really." I grinned.

"Alright, boys, that's enough," John chided gently. "So, if you have anymore problems—"

"I'll call," I promised. "And if you need patching up—this goes for you too Bobby—stop by anytime." Bobby nodded respectfully in my direction before getting into his car and John smirked.

"Okay then." He said, shifting awkwardly.

"Yeah." And then before I could think about it, I leaned forward and hugged him quickly. "Thanks." I let go before the situation grew even more awkward, though my cheeks flamed.

"See you around." John said with a smile as he got into the car.

"See you." I waved and watched as they drove away.

* * *

"So," Isobel asked, a few hours later, once the clinic was cleaned. "Are you dating that FBI guy?"

"Nope."

"You sure?" She pressed, always eager for gossip.

"I'm sure." I said with a small sigh.

"Because he totally—"

"Isobel." I hissed and the younger nurse quickly quieted.

John and I were just friends. We barely knew each other and so what, if he was a little handsome? It didn't change the fact that we were only friends. Not to mention the fact that he wore his wedding ring. There was a story there and until I knew it, we would just remain friends.

That was all.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__I think that in his early years as a hunter, John could've been quite handsome and charming. I mean, Dean had to have gotten it from somewhere, right? Anyways, sorry again for the long wait! Please review if you have a few seconds. Thanks! _


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